I was on-the-fence if I’d write a race report for Grindstone, however running 100 miles (or 172km by my watch), feels like it deserves a write up!

In 2023 I missed out on the lottery for both Western States and UTMB, so I went hunting for these mysterious UTMB running ‘stones’. I also decided that more ‘race’ practice was required, so I pinned on a bib 6 times in 5 months, from May to September, for distances ranging from 21km to 172km.

It was a super fun few months going to new races with little knowledge or expectation of the course. Some went well, some were a sh$%t show. Pretty perfect preparation for running a miler!

I managed to coordinate Mum coming to Support Crew in US of A, visiting family and the birth of a new nephew…. thanks to my very coordinated sister-in-law Silva!

I arrived in Pennsylvania for a flyby family visit, that included a visit to the Windurra farm and pre-arrival hello before nephew number 3 made his appearance the following Wednesday. I collected Super Crew Toy Martin (aka Mum), and we got ourselves down to Natural Chimneys National Park for the check in of Grindstone 100 miles.

On Thursday we navigated our way around the 5 aid stations Mum would crew at. Luckily 2 were a double-visit so she only had to find 3 places. This was handy as all but the first and last aid station had no cell reception which made tracking runners and navigating to the next place a tad bit challenging.

Friday race day dawned and Mum and I managed a casual walk, then off to the start for a handy 6pm kick off!

I think there were around 400 starters so the start line with the Star Spangled Banner and cheering was fairly rambunctious. Trying hard to avoid the early combustion I experienced in 2023 UTMB, I hid in the mid pack and trotted off carefully at the start.

Off we set into the sun, passing weekend house tailgate parties that had no idea a race was on. After 8ish km of road, we got onto the trail and started onto to ‘rolling hills’. Just like in UTMB at an hour in, I went from super comfortable to sweating, high heart rate and super dizzy in a matter of minutes. I really don’t know if it is psychological, physical or some witchcraft, but at least this time I had some mental preparation. I slowed right up, sat on a tree, ate a gel, and promised myself that even though I felt like passing out, this too shall pass.

I knew I was really fit and armed with that knowledge and past experience, I had confidence that the current downward spiral would change tactics. It is so, so hard to avoid the tailspin when things start going sideways at km 12 of a 170km race, no matter how prepared you think you are.

Got up onto a ridge, joined a procession of slow-but-steady movers and finally felt a bit more conscious. I listened to a running Pastor recently married chat away, and tried to disassociate for a short time. Just as we started getting close to the first aid station (around 20km), I simultaneously started feeling strong and then puked everything up. Go figure, may as well get all the disaster options off the table early on!

Climbing the hill after the aid station and still working for the positive mindset, I realised I was out of water. A miscalculation for how long 14 miles (not kms) was and how thirsty I was post-puking, had lead to a rookie error.

Luckily, I was in the US of A where total strangers offer any assistance they can. ‘Orange shorts man’ kindly offered me half a soft flask of his water and I rolled my way into aid station 2. A stressed volunteer told me I timed my visit well as they had been out of water for an hour and were melting ice, but had recently received 8 gallons. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was not my pacing, but my puking, that had timed my visit to his humble abode.

Off I trundled and finally a long downhill where I joined two men from Ohio that were descending machines. The rain had started, and the rocks made me feel like Bambi on iceskates. We were picking up places which put me in a cheery mood and I hadn’t yet hit the deck.

North River Gap 52km and the first time I got to see Mum. I practiced my positive speech prior to arrival. ‘Rollercoaster start but I’ve come good.’ Mum gave me a banana and we changed bottles and nutrition. I left, walked up the road 50 metres and puked the banana. Mid-hurl I heard Mum behind me say “so that’s a no to banana at the next aid station’. She’s a pragmatic woman.

Off over another ‘rolling hill’. At 6464m elevation gain, the ‘rolling hills’ of Grindstone had a bit of bite! At the top of ‘Lookout Mountain’ (where I couldn’t see a thing as it was dark), it started getting properly wet and windy. Did I mention there was a hurricane off the coast adding some fun weather patterns to Virginia?

Hands were very cold. Fighting with the brain to keep shuffling. I kept coming up behind head torches who always sent a friendly ‘Hey man’ greeting, and then were super embarrassed when they realised it wasn’t a ‘man’ after I said hi. Descending I was passing people which was uplifting and I found a friendly, chatty bunch who towed me along in their train for a while. They knew a friend from Whistler which was random and I sold them on visiting Australia. I was not eating much, but also not puking much, so let’s take the wins!

Into seeing Mum a second time. Still dark which I was pleased with as I wasn’t sure I’d get this far in the dark in my race plan.

Then a lollipop! For the uninitiated a 42km section where we went out a ‘stick’, did a loop and returned on the lollipop ‘stick’.

I got to see the 5 front running men on the ‘stick’ and they were moving SO FAST! Sun slowly rose but it was grey, torrential rain and views were ‘limited’ at best.

In my head, the lollipop went badly. My feet were starting to send insistent signals that they “HATED” the slippery rocks. Keeping nutrition down was a struggle. Hurricane winds on high ridges were very brisk. Did I mention the wet rocks were death-defying? I hit the deck multiple times.

I leap frogged with a man who was an excellent runner, but kept napping in each aid station. Into Dry Creek Branch Aid (it was pouring rain and there was not a Dry Branch to be found). I asked a volunteer how close I was to cut off. The guy looked confused and told me it was 12.15pm. I asked him if he meant midday and he said, ‘well it’s not midnight is it!’. I thought it was around 4pm so YAY ME!

I made it back to Mum at 116km Dowells Draft Aid 2. Was thinking it was all a bit hard and she had to kick me out of the aid station with some tough love. I believe “Swing your arms to hike faster” was given in response to me whining that I was tired.

The next section was a bit of a disaster. No calories caught up with me and I crashed head-first into rocks and mud twice. I hiked on an easy road when I should have run, and generally considered I’d made poor life choices.

One upside of this race was that I mentally kept fighting to move at ‘fast as possible’ pace, which is a much different mindset than ‘hike it in’. So the road consisted of counting 4 ‘row, row your boats’ and 10 steps of walk. For those that are not complete nutcases, this is me singing the nursery rhyme ‘Row, Row, Row your Boat’ repetitively as it is a perfect 180 steps per minute efficient cadence and helps you move quicker. It also makes you crazy!

Into the fourth aid station with Mum, Camp Todd 133.4km. It was torrential rain and I was really cold. There was no tent to cover runners or crew so we changed shirt on the roadside under a blanket we ‘borrowed’ from our Air BNB. Necessity is the mother of all invention!

I may have let the words ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get over this next climb’ escape. Mum feed me soup and told me to get on with it. Quite useful advice and off I trundled. I thought it’d be a grand plan to try to get to the summit before I turned on my head torch light for the second night.

Halfway up I yoyo’d with a lovely guy who told me since we passed each other 6 times, he felt it was time we officially met. He also complimented my aid station efficiency. Mark, Marcio, I’m not even sure I dreamt him up…. But off he went into the dusk. Could have been my last hope for eternal happiness, but I didn’t have the legs to chase him and sadly he slipped away.

The last big descent into North River Gap was a BAS#$%RD! I crashed a couple times on the slickest rock ever created. Luckily I was still shuffling and passing people in between my Rocky Balboa impersonations. I was also seeing rocks turn into moving ferrets and blue lizard-worms. Found a trio of 2 guys and their bouncy pacer girl who looked like a great runner. I bungy-corded myself to them and held on for dear life. Happy Trio were also periodically looking at lizard-worms on the ground with their headlights, so maybe it wasn’t all in my head!

149.3km North River Gap and it was 10.04pm. Toy Martin, Support Crew Hero was there. I finally felt confident that a finish would happen. I was trying to calculate what 10 miles to the finish was in kilometres. Bouncy Girl Pacer helpfully calculated 16km. All basic maths was out the window, but her runner assured me he worked in miles and had no idea how far that was!

I left before the Happy Trio and knew they’d catch me. Off up a gravel road and then the sleep monsters took a hold. I could see headlights in front and behind. I was weaving a bit and shaking my head to stay alert. I’d been avoiding too much caffeine after tummy issues in other races, but now was paying the price. Eyes closed a few times and then suddenly I could see no headlights before or after me. I was really worried I’d missed a turn. Shuffling to try to get to the next streamer, I rounded the corner to see a fabulous confirming Grindstone sign!

Last short climb and I tried to get in a gel. My stomach firmly reminded me it was holding at least a 24-hour strike. A lovey fellow runner was very concerned and stood next to me averting his headtorch discreetly. I tried to assure him between hurling bouts that it had been happening for hours and all was well. At least the violent vomiting woke me up properly

The last aid station Lick Creek, 168.8km and I found my Happy Trio again. Only 7km to go but it was nearly all road. The volunteer told me it was ‘all downhill from here’. I passed my Happy Trio and then started climbing a hill. I was so confused….. was the volunteer lying? I couldn’t see my Happy Trio headlights, had I made a wrong turn in the eleventh hour? The excellent marking saved me and yes, the volunteer had been lying to me at 12.33am, it was NOT all downhill from him!

I hit the road and decided to try very hard to stay in front of the Happy Trio as long as I could. The tailgate revellers had gone to bed, and I was properly in the hurt locker. Across the open roads through paddocks and I was unwilling to turn my head in case my head torch gave hope to those chasing me across the plains! I was picking my way past my suffering compatriots including 2 poor guys puking. I promised them it’d be over soon. You know you are racing in the US when every person you pass says “Good job!” with enthusiasm when you pass them, even as they disaster themselves.

The final km into the finish went onto a random single track. I was swearing black and blue at the race organisers who probably thought this was a delightful surprise. Not for the soul not finishing at 1.36am, I can tell you!

Found Mum, 1 announcer, 1 photographer, and a finish line.

95/184 finishers. I think there was around 400 that started. 9^th Female.

Unlike previous races, when it didn’t go my way, I kept trying to move forward at ‘fastest pace available’ and was rewarded with some rollercoaster high points. I told Mum in the car ride home that I was done with milers because they are just too hard. With a week of perspective, I may live to fight another day 😉